RADJAR awoke the next morning. The night had been relatively fruitless, and he'd only gotten a few hours sleep. Tired and looking especially haggard, he walked out of his rustic quarters and into the corridor. The sun was shing beautifully through the hall window, a lush green vine growing from it. Radjar's eyes were sunken in, and dark circles lined them. Next door, the room was vacant. After a long and further exhausting walk, he reached the main hall. It appeared he was late, and only Barbod, the Lone Falcon, Gereld, and a few women were there.
"Finally up I see. You almost missed breakfast." said Gereld.
"Well, I was tired, still am." snapped Radjar rather-nonchalantly. "Where's Bjarn?"
"Interrogating the foreigner. He took quite a wound."
"As I saw."
"Sit down. You'll feel a bit better if you have a meal." ordered Barbod rather politely. "This is Rosa, Shainya, and Jainess. They're staying here as well-"
"Yes, I know, I know. Please to meet you all."
Rosa looked hostile, while Shainya, the bright haired one, was a little moody. Jainess, however, was very polite.
"Pleased to meet you, your highness. I am a soldier under Lord Barbod's command."
"Please, call me Radjar. I get very tired of all this hero-worship. I've seen to much death to call the Fell War 'a victory.'"
The group was shocked by Radjar's cruel remark.
"What is the problem, Rad? You'd better buck up, boy, or there'll be trouble along the way!" shouted Barbod, frustrated by Radjar's insolence.
"I'll be careful," Radjar said mockingly, grabbing a fruit and walking off.

"Alright Kif, let's show these freaks what a bloated, runaway military budget can do"

Bjarn walked into the room, he was not happy but felt sorry for the Lone ranger.

“What happened, Why did you escape?” He said calmly to him.

“Before I answer your question, who was that bull knight?” he said forcedly which didn't make bjarn want to tell him

“Why do you want to know?”

“is he a messenger from Lovana?”

“Who's Lovana?” wondering who this Lovana is.

“She's the leader of the bull's crest, that is, until she finds the lord barbod...”

Bjarn was shocked that he was hearing this.

“you mean to tell me there is a bull crest?” Bjarn said very interested what he was talking about.

“They have been hiding ever since the war, they escape the village before the falcon army could kill them. 8 months ago it was said lord barbod was sighted on a boat out at sea. She set out and I went along to find him. Now, is he a messenger from her?”

“No, that is Lord barbod” shocked at this point, this was jaw dropping news to Bjarn, he couldn't wait to tell lord barbod, but he wanted to find out more, he thought this might be a trick...

“Hmmmm, so she found him” not really caring what this news meant to Bjarn.

“No, she has not found him yet, how do you know about this?” saying it forcedly to the Lone ranger, but still very interested.

“I trained with them and journied with 1000 bull knights, for a big number, they are good at hiding, and I know her because I was hired to protect her”

Bjarn had to think about this before he did anything. But he must tell Barbod...

"My lord," said Targon, coming astride his master. "by your leave I would have a word with that sergeant. We have unfinished business between us."

"Do as you would." Replied the the Sorceror King. "As it is I have other things to attend to."

Grid: F-11
Location: Dragon Master/Royal Knight border.

"Caimlin." Targon shouted as he caught up to the departing sergeant. "Leaving so soon? And not even stopping to say goodbye to an old friend. Or should I say victim?"

"Do not fool yourself Targon." Caimlin replied slowing the pace of his steed. "It was not I who vanquished you , but Lord Void. And, if you had listened to me you would not be in this state. Indeed, I find your that plight here is of no ones contriving but your own"

Targon was speechless. He had been so thoroughly confronted with the truth of the matter. With the truth he had so blatantly ignored in his self pity that he utterly lost his voice. Targon's face turned red with anger. He reached for his dagger but he couldn't get it out of the sheath.

"I'm gonna ... You're gonna ... When I get ... Some day ... I'll get you Caimlin ..."

"I am sorry" said Caimlin. "that you will not be reconciled, but at least take this..." Caimlin handed Targon a small, dark-green, stone. "It is a magic stone. Rub it when you most need help, but only when you most need it. And now, I have a caravan to oversee. Goodbye Targon." And with that Caimlin rode away, leaving Targon, half fuming and half stupefied in the dust.